Poetry in Motion
by H8orade
Summary: A series of one-shots detailing a growing relationship between Horace and River after Scarlett rises to the throne of Armello.(Please leave reviews!)
1. Professionals

The sound of singing cut through the silence of the lonely forest road. The badger cooed an old song of love and loneliness to himself while hauling along his axe and rucksack, trying to pass the time on the long and silent forest road to Darkmire. _Four more miles,_ he thought to himself. _Then I can rest my tired legs at the fork in the road. But four more miles first. Might as well keep singing 'Dame Jolie' to myself to pass the time._

And so the Badger peacefully marched on, armor clanking for three more miles until the sound of a violent screech halted his lovely song in the middle of its verse. The sound of an angry Bane pierced the forest, clearly coming from the direction he was marching in. The badger stopped his song with a tired sigh. _I suppose an old badger can run for a mile or two. Beats the death of some poor merchant, at least._

Merely one mile from the lonely badger marched a spry and alert wolf. She immediately grabbed her bow and started running towards the sound. A bane in this part of the woods being this angry could only mean that a traveler was in serious danger. Unlike the badger a mile off, she had no need to hesitate a moment. She started backtracking immediately towards the danger, bow in hand, ready to fight this beast to the death. _This'll undo half an hour of progress_, she thought in annoyance to herself. _Not the first time. I can set up an encampment farther back for the night. There's probably a life on the line. Half an hour won't harm me._ And so she ran back towards the sound of the Bane with a sense of duty propelling her forward. This bane would be her next target.

It took all but 6 minutes for the lonely badger warrior to run the half mile to the site of the bane. What he beheld there wasn't a pretty sight to see. A merchant chain of five had been run off the road. The Bane's beak killed two already, and the remaining three were cowering under their cart, trying not to die. The badger readied his axe to think of a plan. This wasn't the first bane he'd dealt with by any stretch, but no bane is an easy target. "You three, stay under your cover, I shall help you!" he shouted, gaining the Bane's attention before a loud shriek and the sound of an arrow piercing flesh interrupted his gaze. He charged forward, seizing the opportunity for an open strike as he brought his axe down upon the beast's neck, wounding it, but not killing it completely. The battle was far from over, and Horace knew it. Backing up, he decided to look around. That is when his eyes fell upon her, and hers fell upon him.

The wolf paused only long enough to identify him as not a threat. Drawing her bowstring back, she loosed an arrow into the beast's eye, allowing this unknown badger to roll away from the beast's blows and rush to her side, axe at the ready. The two did not know each other by any stretch, but the two could tell from the dress and calm demeanor of the other that they needed no introductions. Both were professionals. They needed only to formulate a plan.

"I have a bow and a dagger. What about you?"

"Just my axe, a falchion, and my armor. You know any magic?" The badger asked, hoping to find a magical leg up.

"I'm no mage. You?"

The badger winced, knowing how bad he was at magic from his many attempts to learn it. "Me neither. Old fashioned it is."

The wolf took charge with her plan, the standard course of action for dealing with a bane. "I'll shoot the beast and you slice him from the other side. Take turns grabbing his attention."

"Repeat until it dies. I understand" the badger nodded, having done this routine many times before. With that, he rushed forward and took his first swing, before ducking to the other side.

The plan wasn't creative, but it was time tested and worked just as well as any other. The first two volleys of axe and bow were somewhat sloppy as the two warriors took time to learn each other's pace, but the wolf recovered gracefully by shooting two arrows in a single volley. The badger, for his part, managed to get closer and closer to the beast's neck with each volley. The bane itself was rather uncoordinated from blood lost in his first strike, and it was technically only a matter of time before it bled out. However, neither of the two wanted to play the waiting game. So when the badger got an opportunity, he leaped forward, rooted himself, and brought his axe down upon the beast's neck, severing head from body in one swoop. The wolf took this as her cue to advance, loosing two more arrows into the headless body to stop its flailing before advancing on the head, bow drawn at the ready to fire in case it decided to give one last dying bite. This instinct proved effective, as she loosed an arrow into the beast's open mouth as it attempted to bite the badger one last time. The badger sighed in relief, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"I thank the Wyld I'm not too old to defend myself from attacks like this" he muttered to himself. "That being said… I should probably take a rest…"

The wolf had sympathy for her axe-carrying companion. "Swinging that is hard work. This longbow isn't much better, but I suppose I had no attacks to dodge. Take your rest, I'll see to the merchants."

The badger leaned on his axe to pull himself up. "No need… We're both professionals here, that is clear enough. Rest can wait" he said, offering a paw to the wolfess. "My name is Horace, fair warrior."

The wolf couldn't help but admire Horace and took his hand in a firm grasp. "River, ranger of the Wolf clan. In service to Her Majesty, King Scarlet. Enchanted, Sir Knight."

"I'm afraid I'm not 'Sir Knight' anymore, Lady River. I am but a common mercenary now" he said, earning a look of confusion from her. "Tis a long story" he said. "Maybe if we ever have the joy of meeting again" he told her.

The three merchants remaining thanked the two profusely for their help and offered them whatever goods they could carry that weren't in a locked box. Both took only modest snacks and supplies to maintain their weapons and armor. Horace helped bury the dead while River stood guard for any more banes, and all stood in a moment of silence once the burial was complete before it was time to move on.

"Well, Sir Horace" the she-wolf said, offering her paw. "It was a pleasure. May only the best of luck join you in your path."

Horace readily shook her paw, smiling as he usually did for professional courtesy. "With you as well, Lady River." With a nod, the two turned.

And took one step in the same direction.

"Oh… Uhm, Sorry, I believe South is in the other direction" Horace politely stated.

"I've been a ranger for ten years, Sir Horace. I think I know where south is," she replied, slightly off-put. "You're going the wrong way. North is behind you."

"I was… I was meaning to go south, Ranger. I didn't mean to doubt your credibility however," Horace apologized.

"So… we travel the same way?" He asked, gingerly.

"I suppose so. I go to Darkmire castle"

"As do I" Horace replied as his ears perked up. "Might I ask what you travel for?"

"Private contract" she said quickly. "You?"

"Private contract" he replied. "Seems we have much in common. I suppose the journey will be less lonely, then?"

River shrugged and smiled a bit. "A traveling companion is always good. Someone to take turns with tending the fire" she said, taking a step forward before doubling back. "You're not sleeping in the same tent as me. I shouldn't have to say that, but some males can't seem to read cues."

Horace laughed. "I had no such intent, Lady River. Besides, I have a tent of my own, and I'm on the job. Warriors have no time for such things."

River decided she liked this one already. "Good. I won't need to press a dagger to your neck. Let's go now"

"Yes, let us. Be gentle, though, I am no spring chicken" he mused. "I've lived a long 42 years, and I've no intent to die on the road"

"42 isn't that old. I've been at this 10 years myself."

"You're ten years old?" Horace playfully jested.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, you minstrel! I'm 26, if you must know. Rangers start at 16,"

"Compared to me, you _are_ a spring chicken," he laughed.

"Oh well. Try to keep up then, wise old Sir Horace."

The two walked in comfortable silence for half a mile before River decided to tease the poor old badger a little more. "So, Dame Jolie? Excellent taste in music. You have a wonderful singing voice," she teased, twirling an arrow in her paw.

"YOU HEARD THAT?!"


	2. Fire Watchers

Poetry in Motion: Campsite

One week of travel on the same road had made River and Horace somewhat of acquaintances, more so than would be usual for two warriors travelling to their contract together. To both of their surprise, Horace managed to keep up the pace even at his more senior age, and River's work with a bow made trap-setting almost unnecessary. That being said, Horace still enjoyed foraging for the berries he sat and munched on in front of the fire. That, and it allowed him time to gather firewood for the pair.

The badger popped a berry into his mouth while listening intently to River's story.

"Of course, I didn't know _why_ the poor sod decided to attempt to catch the arrow, but he gave it his best at least," the wolf jested.

"I'm sure he caught it in the end" Horace jabbed halfheartedly, trying to fake a laugh. "Maybe not with his paws, but his face probably caught it"

River couldn't help a laugh before noticing Horace's gaze sour a bit as he stared at the fire. "Horace, are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm…" Horace wanted to say he hated the way warriors often jested of how they killed. He hated putting up the charade that killing was something he enjoyed. How he always had to play along at warrior's banquets. "… I'm fine. Just had a bad history with arrows."

"Well… We all have, if it makes you feel any better" she said, trying to settle down the conversation. "What of you, Horace? Any moments you look upon with jest as a knight?"

"I… did save the lives of many people in my career, I'm sure some of those stories are interesting. There were some very jestful moments I witnessed during my local fencing tournaments as a young cub"

"You don't like to talk of killing, do you?" River asked, sensing outright what his hangup was. "I understand."

Horace simply sat in silence, looking at her. "You needn't stop talking of killing around me. We are both warriors, I am simply from a more sentimental time"

"I'm not one who takes joy in killing either, Horace. I sometimes shiver at the things I say in jest, if we're being honest," River consoled, leaning a bit closer to the badger in an attempt to empathize with him.

"No creature is meant to see the anatomy that war exposes to them…"

An emotional dagger stabbed through both of their hearts as memories of gore haunted their souls. _Okay, too much empathy,_ River thought.

River looked over Horace as he sighed. She decided she wouldn't push the conversation further for his sake. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small lemon cake, offering to Horace with outstretched paw. "Take it, Horace. It's yours."

Horace smiled. "I am reminded of a verse. _For what the old man loses in his vigor, he gains in heavy pounds upon his waist. Me-hopes you spend thy younger years in feasting, afore you let the body go to waste._"

River rolled her eyes in complaint. "Don't be so melodramatic, it's a lemon cake the size of my paw"

Horace chuckled. "If you insist, Lady River," he said, taking the cake and having a bite.

"So, the ox-sized badger hauling an axe for hundreds of miles is a fan of poetry?"

"I come from a more sentimental time, like I stated earlier. The Knightly profession was only starting to take on a philosophy of defending the weak. Not to say that we _weren't _used as pawns for grander schemes… Tau, after all…"

"You knew him personally?" River asked, eyes intent on finding out the mystery behind his mention of this.

"Before the Rot, yes. That's all that you need to know," Horace said, ending that conversation before it could start. "My point is, killing was always an unfortunate circumstance of protection. We would do it readily, but we would never revel in it. Not so with the company of mercenaries I seem to find myself in nowadays."

River turned her face away from her traveling companion to look upon the fire. "You know, I left my order too. After that disgrace to the throne _Thane_ sold out my clan to be bandit puppets, I left as soon as my contract expired. I couldn't stand to re-enlist under such foppish leadership."

Horace winced a bit and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, knowing that revealing his personal connection to an entire ruling clan she probably hated wouldn't make the traveling any easier. "I'm sorry you had to be separated from your sisters in arms like that."

"It was better than staying. For their part, the two bandit trains I did have to escort before my contract expired weren't downright criminal or disorganized as I would have thought. But still… selling out his own clan to bandits. He will go down as the weakest leader in the wolves' history," she lamented, taking a long swig from her wineskin.

A snapping twig in the nearby forest was salvation for Horace in this awkward conversation, and he readily picked up his axe to investigate the threat. River did the same with her bow, stringing an arrow immediately before four archers surrounded the camp. "Hands up! You are under arrest while we investigate your camp for stolen goods!"

River immediately started to pull back her bow. "We are mercenaries on a private contract, we carry no stolen goods or smuggled slaves. Who are you to treat us like common bandits?"

"Highway agents of the Clan of the Commons" the leader commanded. "You happen to be encamped in an area where seven highway robberies have been conducted in the last month."

"Fancy name you bandit clan criminals have given themselves ever since you bribed your way to the throne!"

Horace set down his axe. "River, it is unwise to run your mouth right now, I can-"

"Don't treat me like some dainty woman, Horace, I-"

"River! Stop. Talking. Right. Now" he said, with the full seriousness of someone who knew what he was dealing with.

River sighed, knowing from her week of travel with him that Horace wouldn't tell her to shut up without good cause. "You'd better have a good sense about this, badger" she said, lowering her weapon cautiously.

Horace sighed. He'd have to reveal his old bandit clan ties for this one if the pair was to get out of this unmolested. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out King Scarlett's coin of officership which distinguished himself as the commander of Scarlett's personal guard during the war.

River dropped her bow immediately. "Y-you? A…"

"Commander of the people's guard of the Bandit Clan. Yes. And I was promised, by King Scarlett unmolested travel through Armello for the rest of my life. Or do you intend to deprive a retired officer of his rights, _sergeant_?" he said, directing the question to the archers.

The leader of the small team looked on with shattering realization, immediately ordering all of his men to stand down before snapping to attention and rendering a salute. "Commander Horace, my deepest apologies."

"You were just doing your job. But you and your men should study up on their history, it seems. You forgot to show your badges, by the way. You could have been misconstrued for any manner of common highwaymen. Get out of my sight. You disappoint me," he said, summoning an uncharacteristic amount of vinegar in his tone to attempt to scare the sergeant off.

The archers immediately nodded and retreated into the forest from whence they came in shame and embarrassment, leaving only Horace and River. Horace sighed, and looked to the forest with a distant stare. "I fear I associate with the common ilk of banditry, my fair lady. I'll take my leave." With that, he turned to his bag and started to pack his things.

River winced in emotional pain as Horace started to pack his things. Him, a bandit commander? The right-hand man of King Scarlett? But he was… so kind. And professional. And surprisingly impoverished. Not even an estate to his name. He was no normal bandit. He was someone she could… maybe give a pass for this one time.

"Horace! Wait!" she said, grabbing his wrist. "I was… a bit melodramatic. But we're still on our way to the same contract, and two warriors survive better than one. Besides… I would like to think that… well… we could maybe still be friends. Even if we were once enemies. And even if I still… don't look upon your clan fondly," she said, being far more careful with her words than she wanted to admit.

The badger stopped his packing abruptly. "You think the gift of trust is something you can bestow upon me despite the unfortunate circumstances of our clans?"

River rolled her eyes. "I'm not a puppy, Horace. I can handle a past disagreement."

The badger smiled despite his best attempts to restrain it. "I think the night has overtaken the day. It'd be wise for you to sleep, Lady River. I can take the first watch."

The wolf sighed in relief. "Are you sure you won't fall asleep, _wise old one_?" She joked. "An old man like you needs his nap-time after all."

"I may be no new soul, but I must say I have plenty of time before my grave. I've only 41 years to my name. Dereliction is not in my nature, I swear to it," he shot back playfully. "Besides, you'll be burdened pleny with the second shift, I'd imagine. I'll be putting out the fire, by the way. With highwaymen around, we'd be better off cooking by day and camping cold by night."

"You take away my fire when I have no fine, young companion to warm the cot with me?" She suggested playfully. "I'm wounded, good sir."

"I know not what you wish to mean by that, Lady River, but I don't imagine it to be fit for the conduct of a gentleman."

River burst into laughter and got into her tent. "Oh, please, you, gentle? After what you did to that bane? Have a good watch, Horace."

Horace rolled his eyes with a smile. "Gentle as a soldier can afford to be, anyway."

Horace got a bucket of water ready. But before he put the fire out, he hesitated. Thoughts nagged him. So he supposed he could spare a moment to get his book and quill to write.


End file.
